The Witchiest Grandmummy
by MrsRen
Summary: In which Hermione and Draco have several problems, and truly talk about zero of them. Confessions are forced, and threats are made, especially concerning a window and one Astoria Greengrass. [ONESHOT.] [REQUESTED ON TUMBLR.]


**Written for another tumblr prompt by an anonymous asker! It was so long that I decided to post it as it's own oneshot. **

**Prompt: Dramione. Hermione and Draco are dating, but it seems that Draco can't completely forget his ex, Astoria. Besides, she wants to go back to him… Everything gets complicated when Hermione realises she's pregnant. Dramione happy ending. **

**I'm not entirely sure I've delivered on everything you wants, anon, but I am sure that I've done my best. I truly hope that you enjoy this, but if you don't, I'll redo it. **

**Warnings: some angst, but no infidelity this time. ****All mistakes are my own, whether grammatical, typos, or possibly my tenses getting screwy. **

* * *

_Draco's arm is slung over hers, a heavy weight that remains steadfast as she tried to crawl out of his bed. She didn't normally opt for staying the night—his parents didn't particularly like her, and used any opportunity to make that known—but he'd finally worn her down the night before. His lips skimmed her shoulder, and he nipped the soft skin there. "Stop moving." _

"_I need to use the loo." Hermione stifled a laugh. "Draco, let go of me!" _

_His arm locked around her waist, and flipped her to where she was laying on his chest. "Why would I want to do that?" _

"Granger!" A voice snaps, and she almost drops the portkey she'd been tinkering with. Saul Croaker is glaring down at her from the steps leading into the Department of Mysteries, and to say he looks upset, well, that would be phrasing it mildly. "Are you going to hand in your reports soon, or shall I tell my wife to reschedule dinner?"

A grimace curves her lips. "No, sir. I have everything right here."

He turns her nose up at her, and she can hardly blame him given her recent pattern of forgetfulness. "Have it on my desk before you leave." Croaker turns on his heel, and she's left in the silence.

Right, her paperwork.

The same paperwork that she's grossly behind on. It's not like her, she realises that, and it seems cheap to blame it on her lack of sleep, or her personal problems. However, it's exactly that. As the ticking minute hand of the large clock mounted on the world ticks toward the end of the day, dread coils in her stomach.

It's been like this for close to two weeks, and she's not sure when she's going to say something. Hermione's thought about it—mulled it over and twisted it until it was barely recognisable—but she's yet to follow through.

_It's fine. Draco is busy trying to work toward restoring his name, and I can't fault him for that. I can't help him get the assistance of other families belonging to the Sacred 28. _

But—

Did it _have _to be Astoria Greengrass who _could _help him? Hermione wasn't a fool. The younger Greengrass—or, as she called her silently, the air-headed tart—was Draco's ex-girlfriend. Technically, which she didn't want to be technical about it currently, Astoria was his ex-fiance. He'd dissolved the engagement himself, long before they had become anything, but Hermione realised that Astoria wanted to worm her way back in.

Just like she knows that Draco's parents would undoubtedly encourage it. Where Hermione was brash, Astoria was demure. Where Hermione was muggleborn, Astoria was—

She didn't let herself finish the thought. Grabbing her paperwork, she skims it, filling it in properly because her seemingly deteriorating relationship isn't going to ruin every part of her life.

oOoOoOoOoOo

He's not at her flat like he promised to be when she lands in their fireplace, and she wants to step back into it and spend the night with Ginny. Only her friends will ask too many questions, and they'll judge Draco on nothing but his past actions.

Hermione sits in the window nook—reminded that he had installed it for her—and reads for several hours. Returning to a repeat read of a muggle novel, she forgets what's bothering her mostly.

However, when the Floo activates minutes past midnight, her anger flares again, and she knows that she's unlikely to be pleasant company.

Draco crosses the room, adjusting the windsor knot at his throat while bumping her foot with his knee. "You're still up?"

She shuts her book, and puts it to her side. "I was waiting for you to show up."

His brows furrow. "Why?"

Hermione exhales sharply and several seconds pass. "Right then. I'll be going to bed. Let yourself out." As she brushes past him, Draco catches her by her wrist.

He's impeccably dressed, but his hair is dishevelled and her own insecurities gnaw at her. "Hermione?"

"What is today?" She breathes, pulling her wrist away. "Draco, what's the date?"

It hits him all at once, and his eyes widen in horror. As if he's been trying to keep it together for too long, and it's tumbling down.

At least, that's how it feels to her. Like she's been holding on to a rope without gloves that's beginning to cut into her skin.

"I—"

She doesn't give him the chance to talk. "Where were you?"

His answer is just what she expects, and it threatens to cut her in half. "Tori wanted to meet for dinner."

Her mouth flattens into a thin line. "You were meant to be here at 5:30. Are you telling me you spent over six hours having _dinner_?"

He goes rigid as the implication hits home in one vicious strike. Draco stumbles, his hand coming up to his throat.

_It's a nervous tick and she knows it. _

"Are you accusing me of cheating on you?"

She tilts her head to the side, not an ounce of guilt dropping into her stomach. "I'm more accusing you of wanting to spend more time with Astoria than you do with me." Hermione replies, lacing her fingers in front of her. "Can you blame me for feeling uncomfortable? You were engaged."

He steps toward her, and hurt flickers across his face as she takes a step backward. "It's not like that. I admit, we had dinner, and then my parents wanted to see her—" Draco's voice cuts off as tears fill her eyes. "Okay, I realise how this looks, but—"

"Do you enjoy spending time with her?" Hermione spits. "Has every time you've seen her been strictly about charities?"

He doesn't have an answer.

"Oh, my fucking God."

"I've never wanted to cheat on you. Astoria and I didn't work, and we won't work out, but my parents—"

"How long is it going to be about your parents?" Hermione shrieks. "Does their opinion of me matter so much to you?"

Draco winces, and his face says all she needs to know.

"Get out."

He reaches for her.

"Please, just get out." Hermione doesn't turn to watch him, even though she wants to see if he's looking back at her, and the sound of the Floo echoes in her flat.

When she steps into her bedroom, she picks up the photograph of her parents. There are several dates that Hermione remembers, but the day she erased her parents' memories is the highest on the list.

And Draco was supposed to be there for her.

oOoOoOoOoOo

Draco sends her flowers as an apology.

Unspeakable Croaker traps a nasty insult by biting his lip so hard that she can see it when she unceremoniously dumps the bouquet into the rubbish bin.

Her friends ask her if they've broken up, and the answer is no. But for all that they've quarreled, he hasn't come to apologise. If he expects her to, then he would be waiting for a very long time. It's childish, she thinks, because they both deserve better. If they can't communicate openly, then they're only wasting time.

A week slowly rolls by, with Draco swinging by her office, but the timing is never right. She's usually too far into a project to disrobe from her protective gear, and he never waits. Or maybe he does. Croaker doesn't tell her specifics, and she doesn't ask for them.

Friday morning, she's supposed to meet Harry and Ron for coffee, but the thought of her normal morning drink and croissant makes her stomach roll. Gagging from a terrible taste that she can't get off her tongue, Hermione stumbles into the loo off to the right of her bedroom.

She barely makes it to the toilet before she drops to her knees, and vomits.

As she flushes the evidence, she sits on the plush bathroom mat, her fingers digging into the threads, and ponders what could have made her sick.

It couldn't have been her dinner. Molly's an excellent cook, and she'd ate nothing else yesterday. But then she opens the cupboard for a rag to wipe her mouth, and sees a box of feminine toiletries.

It hasn't been moved in so long that there's a layer of dust covering the top of it.

"_Fuck!_"

oOoOoOoOoOo

One magical test, a trip to St Mungos, and about a dozen muggle tests later, Hermione felt even worse. There's no mistaking it, and it comes at what she imagines could be the worst possible time. They've been together for less than a year, and seem to already be meeting a wall.

But, she tries to be encouraging while telling herself that these things happen. They're fixable, her and Draco, if they want it to work.

And she doesn't want to raise a child while not with the father. Hermione's not traditional in every sense of the word, every concept, but she realises that she wants a family. Seeing Ginny and Harry grinning as Ginny's stomach continues to swell—she wants that. Though she didn't expect that to happen for some time.

Hermione Floos into Malfoy Manor, and doesn't wait for Topsy to announce her arrival, or for her to escort her to where she needs to go. She meets Narcissa as she walks down the corridor. "Would you mind telling me where I can find your son?" Hermione asks, her tone polite even though she wants to remove the smug look on Narcissa's pinched face.

"His study, Miss Granger, but you should wait. It's truly disrespectful to interrupt when he's entertaining company." The way she says company, with a cruel twist of her lips, leave no questions.

Hermione rolls her eyes, and hurries up the stairs, but she can't help herself from lingering outside the door. It's Astoria, and she leans to the wall with a sickening feeling churning in her gut.

"I just think that if we gave this another try, Draco, we could be better than before. Narcissa and I have discussed it, and it could be done as soon as this winter." Astoria breathes. "I understand that you've had your fun with Miss Granger, but I think it's time for you to come home. Don't you—"

Hermione slams the door open. "Out." She hisses, pointing her wand at Astoria. "Out right fucking now, or you're taking a tumble out of that window."

Astoria looks from her to the window, and decides to not take her chances. As they're left completely alone, Hermione folds her arms across her chest. "We need to talk." Hermione says.

He stares at her, dumbstruck, as he rises from his chair. "Did you just threaten to throw her out of a window?"

She swallows. The memory of storming in is already vague considering the news she's yet to deliver. "I might have. Are you angry?"

Draco walks toward her, towering over her. "I'm not sure I've ever been this attracted to you before."

"Save it." Hermione mutters. "Let's start with the end of our last conversation, shall we? What do you want from me?"

His fingers trail up her side. "I think what you're really asking is whether I've considered giving Astoria and I another chance."

Hearing the words 'Astoria and I' make her want to vomit. "Then answer it."

He stares at the ceiling for a long moment before bringing his eyes back to her. "For a long time, I thought I wanted a model marriage to earn my parents' approval. And I have to admit that I debated it again once she began working with me for the charity, but Hermione, don't go."

It's irrational. She's supposed to hear him out, because that's fair. And she's supposed to be fair, but all she can feel is her heart cracking into slivers.

"I don't want that. I don't care what they say, and I'll spend as long as that takes to make it up to you."

"Stop working with her then." Hermione says immediately. "If you want me to believe you, then don't see her anymore. Astoria clearly has no respect for me, and that should matter to you."

He nods. "I was ending the partnership, but she decided that was the time to try to coerce me into proposing to her."

She chews the inside of her cheek. "Do you want to make this work? Draco, I can't stress how important it is that you're honest right now."

"Are you okay?"

Not really.

Sucking in a breath, Hermione shakes her head. "I threw up this morning, and I realised that I haven't had a monthly cycle in two months. I've already gone to St Mungos, and performed the charm. I realise this can't be what you want to happen, and I don't say that because it's with me. But we're so young—"

He cuts her babbling short by kissing her.

Her toes curl as he lifts her off the ground, arms wound securely around her waist. "You're not angry?" She whispers. "Draco?"

His breath is hot as he buries his face in the crook of her neck. "I'm shocked, but I'm not angry. Have you thought about what you want?"

Hermione hesitates. "I want to have the baby." She replies, and it feels like the ground has disappeared from under her until he answers.

"Okay." He agrees.

"But you don't have to marry me." Hermione knows how traditions work, how Draco is going to react before he even has the chance.

His chuckle dissolves what's left of her nerves. "You must be joking. Can you imagine the look on my mother's face if I go into our vault to pick out your ring?"

She wraps her arms around his neck. "Do you think it's going to be okay?"

Warmth stretches through her jumper as his hand spreads down her back, tracing her spine. "I believe so."

Hermione pulls away, a wide grin on her face while she wipes her eyes. "I had hoped this would happen, but in case it did," she pulls something from her bag. "I bought a speciality onesie."

He arches an eyebrow. "Does that say 'I have witchiest grandmummy?'"

She nods. "I think Narcissa will love it, don't you?"

Draco takes her by the hand with murmured apologies as he leads her down the corridor, and into the sitting room—a separate sitting room than the one Hermione can't stand.

Narcissa's wail causes birds to scatter from the top of the manor.

* * *

**I realise that this is not a super serious oneshot, so please be easy on me if you want to say that it was too resolved too easily. I totally know that. Reviews mean the world, so if you don't mind, I'd love to hear what you think.**

**Note Added Morning After Posting: Normally, I don't add notes after uploading something, but I feel this needed to be said. Draco _did not _cheat on Hermione. When he says "I never wanted to cheat on you," he is literally just saying he never had the urge to sleep with Astoria. That's not to say that his actions weren't wrong, but he never cheated on Hermione. Also, the dinner that lasted like almost seven hours? You wouldn't know it because I didn't write it, and because Draco never got the chance to tell Hermione this while they were fighting, but Astoria certainly wouldn't have continued to help him if he'd dismissed her, so he avoided the conflict. Again, this isn't to say that his actions were fine, but I thought I would clear it up because multiple readers understandably thought that Draco had truly cheated on Hermione. (And he did not.) Okay, I'm out. Thanks again for reading!**


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